Understanding
by OurGloryDays
Summary: After a day full of exhausting hard work, training, and dealing with a crazy Denmark, Finland and Sweden finally come to a mutual understanding of an important decision. Action, fluff and kawaii within! SuFin
1. Chapter 1

Companion fic to 'Sight' :) this story might just be 15x cuter and make a bit more sense to y'all that've read it. If not this story will make just as much sense too! As a bit of a heads up, _Sight_, _Body Language, _and _Leaving_ (unpublished and incomplete as of yet...) and this one all fall in the same timeline. Well, happy reading!_  
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The morning sunlight filtered in through his heavy curtains in one bright, dust-settled column, its path intersecting perfectly with Sweden's eyes. He was awake; it was too bright not to be. His glasses rest on the nightstand, his body aching from the previous day's training sessions. They were preparing for war, and he did not want to train today.

Somewhere, in his still sleep-fogged mind, he drifted off to thoughts of Finland. During the past weeks' practice, he couldn't help but pay a close eye to Finland's abilities- the man was a genius with a bow and arrow. Finland was probably the most accurate archer that Sweden had ever seen, and Sweden would tell you that he's seen quite a few archers in his day. The way Finland would hold his body, tense his arms, and then release, one fluid motion, all happening in the span of one breath, it was intoxicating and utterly _sexy._ Not to mention how easy he made it look to _always_ hit his mark.

Sweden heaved a heavy sigh of infatuation, and rolled unto his back. His body was so sore he could feel the ache in his abs as he breathed. There were so many different methods of defence and offence that Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Finland had their hands full deciding which strategies were the best. Trying to learn, and then reteach them to the troops, proved to be overwhelmingly tiring.

With the oncoming war, Denmark hadn't picked so many fights with Sweden, but there was always the occasional 'demonstration' to their men. During which, Denmark would use a certain tactic on the Swede, who had to just stand there and take the beatings for the sake of their armies. To the audience, every jab in the stomach, every kick to the rib looked like there was no power behind it, but to the man throwing the punches, and to the man receiving them, there definitely was.

Sweden hated it. He absolutely hated resigning his body to the man he could most certainly beat the living shit out of, but he stayed put. He knew Denmark thought of it as a sort-of power play, but Sweden saw right through it. Sweden saw that Denmark was _afraid_ of him leaving, because he knew that once Sweden broke the chain, the others would be inclined to follow. Maybe they wouldn't leave with him- but they would surely leave.

Sweden's stomach grumbled and moaned, hungry for its first meal of the day. The thought of sitting up and getting out of bed disquieted him, he was so tired, though he had only woken up. Rather than debate with himself about getting up, about seeing Finland, about dealing with the annoying Dane, he simply turned his back to the blinding column of light and pulled the covers up to his chin, and taking a deep, achy breath, he closed his eyes.

Not even three minutes into his dazed nap accompanied by a comfortable position, someone knocked on his door. Sweden rolled his eyes behind closed lids. He wanted a damned day off. He stayed quiet in hopes that whoever it was wouldn't bother him if he didn't respond.

_Knock- knock, knock._

Again. Sweden wondered if it was a soldier under his command, though if it was, he thought that the soldier should know better than to disturb his commanders' rest. So, being obstinate, he pulled the covers over his head, and held them tightly in place.

Outside of his door, he heard some whispers, and then the sound of boots walking up the hallway in an unmistakable stride. The whispers quieted, and quickly all other sounds ceased other than the sound of those damned boots.

Soon enough, the boots came to a halt at their loudest, just outside of his door, and Sweden wished, only for a moment, that he could just so easily sit by that river with Finland again. Just so easily make him laugh, hug him, watch the stars turn to morning light with him. Return to simpler days when things weren't so complicated, structured, and rigid.

Groaning to himself, Sweden righted in bed, and then turned and limply swung his feet over the edge to shakily stand. He did not want to seem weak or submissive to Denmark's will, so he quickly put on his training uniform, grabbed his glasses, and slipped them onto his head just as his bedroom door started opening.

"Hey!" Denmark stood, blocking the doorway, with a firm stance, arms crossed over his chest, and a wicked smile across his face. Sweden wondered how he could be so peppy first thing in the morning. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with Denmark. He was hungry, wanted to see Finland, and more than anything, wanted to go to right back to bed.

"Hm." Sweden answered, matching Denmark's stance, with his own being a bit more intimidating due to the added glare and height.

"Yesterday too much for the big, bad Swede?" Denmark sniggered, "Have a hard time gettin' outta bed this morning? Huh?" He pressed, walking into the room with a commanding march.

Sweden visibly rolled his eyes. He's not much of a talker and doesn't care to afford Denmark any pleasure by even engaging with him. Sweden watched as Denmark advanced nearer, cockily cocking his head to the side, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and raising his brows to Swedens lack of deference. Sweden already had enough of him.

Dropping his arms to his side, Sweden brushed past Denmark, shoving his shoulder against the Dane's on the way out of his room. Denmark merely scoffed, but for some reason, let the tired Swede pass without a fight.

Sweden went through the day in an almost numb way. He moved through the actions, the training, the orders and the commands until the sun nearly set and the men wished to return to their lean-to shelters and cots made of hay and withering summer grasses.

Soon, they would all be marching off, together. Some men never to return, and some men to sneak off into the night before they even face their first battle. But, with an enemy as fortified as theirs, the Kalmar Union had to be prepared.

Sweden, in a tired, dazed, and exhausted manner began to slowly make his way back to his domicile. He had left his staff back at camp, along with a good portion of his dignity. Several of his men seemed to be more upbeat than he was, and that worried him. What if Finland saw his sluggish pace? Would Finland think Sweden was weak?

Still walking, slowly and with haunched shoulders, Sweden rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was grateful for the food and good drink that his men provided him, but to him, nothing could beat sitting down and eating with Finland. He was truly torn between resting his body or trying to see if he could weasel in some time with the chipper Fin, when an arrow, shot from behind, planted itself firmly in the ground before him.

_Had the war already begun?_

Fearfully, Sweden Turned around, only to find Finland playfully smirking, holding his bow upright, the twine drawn back, but without an arrow to aim. He lowered his bow, laughing softly.

"Oh man! Sve you looked so terrified for a moment!" Finland walked beside Sweden, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked up at the man. "I could see your whole body go stiff!" He laughed again, light, and full of energy.

Sweden couldn't do much but admire. His whole body felt energized, yet ready to collapse, his mind wanted to rest and also just drink up the sight of a smiling Finland. He had no words, no action nor emotion that he wanted to expose, partially because he was sure Finland already _knew_, but also (and mostly) because his lids were now nearly half-lidded.

Having Finland finally next to him, after what felt like weeks without being around him, Sweden felt he could relax. And so he did, albeit he tried his hardest to hold on for _just _one more second, his body was too exhausted.

His lids drowsily shut, and he faintly remembers hearing Finland mutter something before he felt his knees hit the ground and strong arms wrap around his torso.

Sweden was knocked out.

Finland didn't know what to do. Sweden just fainted- into his arms. Like a fucking damsel in distress. He pulled his canteen from over his shoulder and hastily unscrewed the lid, all the while balancing a passed out and very heavy Swede in his arms.

Tilting Sweden's head back- just slightly, Finland tried to pour very small amounts of water into his mouth. The Swede wasn't responding. Finland felt his brows crease and his lips pout with worry. He looked over Swedens face, and noticed the visible, dark bags under his eyes, the slight crows feet in the corner of his eyes, and his chapped lips, which were now slick with water. His eyes trailed further, down his jaw, over his neck, and finally being met by a bruised collarbone. When did all of this happen? Finland had always been around to mend Sweden's wounds! Finland instantly felt a pang of hurt in his heart, as if he hadn't been paying enough attention to Sweden. His heart was now pumping faster than it did during target practice and he hadn't the faintest idea why.

"Hey!" Finland whipped his head around to look in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. His eyes locked with a group of three men, from Sweden's battalion, Finland figured, by the way they were dressed and the armaments slung over their shoulders. "What happened to him?"

"He…" Finland cradled Sweden's head in his hand, holding it in a more comfortable position, "...just fainted. Can you guys help me get him inside?"

The men approached Finland and Sweden, a bit of concern laced in their silence and furrowed brows.

"If you three can carry him, I'll lead the way, and we can probably slip in past Matthias." It felt so weird, Finland mused, using Denmark's 'human' name. The men grunted in affirmation, two of them simultaneously passed their weapons to the shortest man, and immediately walked to Sweden's sides.

Soon, the two men, both blond, and probably in their late twenties, began muttering to each other in Swedish, probably trying to figure out the best way to carry him. After a few minutes of debating, the smaller man, with light brown hair and carrying too many weapons not fit for his size, pointed to the men, talking to them in Swedish, and then pointed to Sweden. This little exchange, with Finland right in the middle of them, was strange. He was able to pick up some words here and there in their speech, but not much. Soon, the two broader men lifted Sweden from Finlands arms, and supported the large man by draping his arms over their necks. They readjusted a few times before nodding to Finland and signalling that they were ready to get moving.

Finland stood, plucked his bow from the ground and began to lead the rest of the way uphill and to the back entrance of their home. Several times the men asked for a moment's rest, to catch their breath and see if their captain had woken up, but nothing had changed with Sweden's condition.

Before the sun touched the horizon, the men finally made their way to the servant's entrance of Denmark's house. It was now only a short walk from the help's quarters to Sweden's room. Finland pictured five men rustling around in the narrow hallways with their boots dragging and tracking dirt in every direction they went, and he was sure they would be caught by the obnoxious Dane if they tried to move Sweden in this manner. Figuring he could manage his way on his own, Finland politely thanked the men and told him he could manage to get Sweden to some relative comfort.

Gingerly, and with much care, or possibly respect, the unnamed men passed Swedens limp body to Finlands care, propping the door open to make Finlands access easier. They muttered a hasty, yet polite goodbye before the door swung shut and Finland was left standing with one arm wrapped tightly around Sweden's torso, the other holding the wrist of Sweden's arm that was draped behind his neck.

With trepid steps, careful and well rehearsed, Finland found his way out of the help's corridor and turned left, Sweden's room was just beyond the length of this hall, and he sincerely hoped that Denmark would not come across them. Finland could not even imagine how much of a miserable, living hell Sweden's life would be if Denmark showed up.

Honestly, he did not even know what Denmark's problem with Sweden was, but it annoyed Finland to no end. Sure, when they were little, Denmark picked on Finland, but now, it seemed Denmark focused all of his negative attention on Sweden. It didn't make sense. Sweden was truly such a kind-hearted man once you got past his slightly (ok, _very_) intense demeanour.

Finland paused for a moment before making his way to the end of the hall. Heaving a heavy breath, he pushed himself and Sweden against the wall. Sweden groaned lightly as his head hit the wall abruptly, and Finland was glad to know the man was still alive. Hopefully he'd wake up for those few steps across the open hall and into his bedchamber.

Finland peered down to Sweden's form, his glasses were about to fall off his nose so he quickly pulled them from Sweden's face, folded them up, and slipped them in his pocket, all the while tediously balancing Sweden against his body. Sweden was such a burly man!

"Sweden?" Finland whispered. He nudged Sweden with his shoulder.

When he received no response aside from a limp head bobble, Finland sighed again. This was so much trouble. He wished Denmark would just leave the house, just for literally three seconds so he could get the two of them in Sweden's room. All he had to do was cross the corridor, open Sweden's door, and get them inside. Once inside, he could latch the door and there would be no worry of Denmark's nuisance.

Finland rolled his eyes to the back of his head and allowed his lids to close. He could hear Denmark laughing raucously in the main foyer, probably accompanied by an annoyed Norway. Finland had no clue how Norway could put up with Denmark's antics.

He looked again at Sweden's unconscious face. He wondered how much it had taken to get Sweden to this point, and it really upset him. In spite of his generally unbiased nature, Finland was already blaming Sweden's condition on Denmark.

Suddenly, the laughter in the other room faded, muffled by a soft _oomph_. Finland figured that Denmark probably insulted Norway, or possibly just annoyed him too much, and Norway punched him in the gut. That was how it normally went. Which also meant, Finland remembered, that Denmark would then seek Sweden in probably a strange effort to reestablish his manliness? Finland really wasn't sure of the reason for Denmark's actions, but he definitely knew what was coming next.

"Shit." Finland whispered to himself.

Finland wondered if he had time to get themselves into Sweden's room, or if he should just run back down the hallway and into one of the servant's quarters. Looking to his left and right, he figured if he acted now he could probably hold Sweden on his back for just long enough to sprint into the other's room and lock the door behind them. So, dropping his bow to the ground, sliding his quiver from around his shoulders and eventually ridding himself of his satchel and canteen, Finland prepared to carry Sweden.

Knowing that each second spent thinking was a loss of time, Finland positioned Sweden against the wall and jerkily tried hoisting him onto his back. Their heads clanked together awkwardly and painfully until Finland finally got Sweden in a manageable position, but soon the pain dulled and his heart rate accelerated as he heard that all-too-familiar stride knocking against the hardwood floors.

"Fuck." Finland muttered, wishing he could peek his head around the corner to see if Denmark was actually nearing, but with Sweden limply hanging on his back, that seemed to be an impossible task.

Deciding it was now or never, Finland screwed his eyes shut and bolted for the oversized door just around the corner. Awkwardly hunched over, Finland could only manage to hobble his way to the door, at a much slower pace than what he anticipated. Reaching the handle he pulled jerkily against it, only to look up and find a not-too-pleased Denmark holding the door shut against Finland's motions.

"Well," he began, the shock, or possibly innate sarcasm that exuded from Denmark's pores, rolled off his tongue as he crouched to meet with Finland at eye-level, "what have we here?"

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_Please review my lovelies...It only takes a second and truly means so much to me._ Hope y'all have a great night!

**Xoxo, OurGloryDays**


	2. Chapter 2

"Leave him alone." Finland responded, his own breath and voice shaky from supporting Sweden's weight for longer than he knew he could.

"And why should I?"

"Denmark just give him a break." Finland tried, but he could feel his throat closing in on him as he imagined the ruthless, tyrannical things that the Dane might try to pull now that Sweden was utterly defenceless. "Please."

Denmark scoffed and grinned in a way that surfaced old, turbulent emotions. Finland couldn't stand living with Denmark, but he knew he wasn't strong enough to leave. Hell, if _Sweden_ wasn't strong enough to break free, then he was damned sure he would have no chance against Denmark.

Without regard to Sweden's condition, Denmark threaded his hands through the hair on the back of Sweden's head, and in one jerky motion, he fisted the hair, tightly, and pulled Sweden's head up to meet his own.

Finland felt Sweden react, barely to Denmark's action, and suddenly, his mind was divided. He wanted Sweden to wake up so he would get off of Finland's back so Finland might be able to just calm to situation, but he also didn't want Sweden to gain consciousness because that inevitably meant a fight between the two would ensue, and in Sweden's obviously fatigued state, there was no way he would stand a chance.

"Dammit Denmark!" Finland growled, pissed beyond reprieve and raising himself to the tallest height he could without falling over backwards due to Sweden's weight. Finland was on edge; dealing with Denmark was like flipping a coin. It's a fifty-percent chance you'll end up getting yourself into a huge shit-storm, and then there's the other fifty-percent, where you might end up without a scratch. Finland fell silent; locking eyes and levelling emotions with Denmark, "Stop dicking around- nobody finds this funny."

"And who do you think you are?" Denmark removed his grip from Sweden's head to grip tightly on Finland's jaw, pushing Finland's lips up and out uncomfortably, and violently shaking the shorter man's head. "Who do you think _owns_ you?!" Denmark's words were nearly a growl, low and fierce.

Denmark's eyes sparkled and danced dangerously, and Finland suddenly realized that he was giving the Dane exactly what he wanted – a fight. This was not his intention. No. This is not what he wanted at all. He wanted to just get Sweden into his room and lock the door and hide from the world, but as it turns out, fate had another plan, and Finland was left face-to-face with the one person he truly did not care to be around. Ever.

"Huh?" Denmark pressed, tightening his grip on Finland's jaw and pushing the man back slightly. "Let's hear it."

"I have nothing to say to you." Finland hissed, feeling his knees grow weaker by the second, and his jaw become more bruised as Denmark held on tighter. What had he gotten himself into? Why didn't he just go hide in the servants' quarters? Acting on impulse and also becoming more infuriated by the minute, Finland spat in Denmark's face.

Without warning, Denmark pushed Finland to the ground by use of his jaw and sent the two men bumping hard against the wooden floor. Finland felt terrible for thinking this, but he was kind of happy Sweden was there to break his fall. Glaring up at Denmark, Finland watched the man use his sleeve to wipe this spit from his face. Moving quickly, he flipped himself over to see if Sweden maybe gained consciousness from the impact, when an arm wrapped tightly around his midsection.

Not sure who's arm it was, Finland securely slid his arms underneath Sweden's torso, squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of Denmark's wrath, and held him tightly. It was strange, but at this moment, all he could think about was protecting Sweden, so it came as a shock to him when his torso, still firmly latched onto Sweden's, began moving.

Allowing himself to peek through barely-open lids, Finland realized that it was Sweden who was holding him so tightly, and Sweden who was moving to get up. Finland could hear Sweden moaning in distress through an ear pressed to his chest. It only made Finland want this to end sooner.

"Finally…" Denmark's voice, unwelcome, broke the silence. "Looks like you're weaker than I remember… Needing little Fin to carry you to your room." Finland shot Denmark a nasty look, one that also betrayed his disbelief and hurt in Denmark's words. _Little? Who was he calling little!_

Sweden stood at his full height, and Finland could feel how wobbly and fatigued the man still was. Holding onto Sweden tightly, Finland tried to act as a crutch to help Sweden support his own weight, hopefully for long enough to scare the Dane off.

Finland felt the arm remove from his waist and wondered what Sweden was planning on doing; he was in no condition to fight and truly hoped that Sweden wasn't falling prey to Denmark's taunts.

As Sweden moved to open his bedroom door, Denmark not-so-gently nudged his shoulder with a closed fist, causing Finland to widen his stance to further support Sweden. Finland felt Sweden's grip back around his waist, and Finland knew it was up to him to do something. He just didn't know what to do- Finland had not had to deal with Denmark like this for several decades...thanks to Sweden.

Denmark closed the space separating them from the door to Sweden's room, now making it impossible to try and run inside for safety.

"You're makin' this waaay too easy for me, man." Denmark sneers, smiling and crossing his arms over his chest, his glare steers down, from Sweden's eyes to Finlands. "Here, I'll make this easy on ya, Finny. You leave Sweden here with me, and you go off and play with Norge."

"No." Finland spoke, as calmly as possible. On his own he might be able to land a few good ones, but while supporting Sweden, he did not stand a fighting chance. "Den, leave us alone, we're not bothering anyone."

"Not bothering anyone?" Denmark questioned, bending and leaning forward, again coming face to face with Finland. "You're bothering _me._" Finland could smell the alcohol on his breath – something much stronger than mead. To Finland, the situation had just elevated, he could feel Sweden's knees wobbling under fatigue, and something told him that Sweden would not be able to last much longer. Denmark grabs ahold of Finlands upper arm, gripping it tightly.

"You bother me so much more than Sweden…" He begins, yanking Finland closer. Sweden wraps both arms as tightly as he can around Finland, pulling Finland to his chest. "The things I'd like to do to you are much worse than the things I already do to Sweden."

"Stop it Denma-" Sweden's voice was not much more than a whisper in Finlands ear, his voice so quiet that there was no way Denmark heard it, but strangely, it was comforting to Finland – Sweden was fighting in his own way, and maybe simply holding onto Finland was all he could do to stop Finland from being dragged away.

"You know, I was told to never hit a lady, Finny." Denmark hissed, his single handed grip strength equal to Swedens, and soon they were all shuffled and cramped in such close quarters that Finland was sure Denmark could feel the fatigue in Sweden's bones, the lessening hold around his torso.

"But with Sweden barely able to stand, I think I could get away with _so much more_." In that moment Finland was nearly sure he was doomed to be pulled from Sweden and violated in some lascivious way.

"No!" Finland refuses, gripping tighter, squeezing Sweden's torso as tight as he can, knowing that it's all he can do without abandoning Sweden, and not let himself be taken by the insane Dane.

"C'mon, Finny…" Denmark breathily whispers, his words slurred with sexual tension, "It'll be fun…" He yanks again, this time freeing enough space between Sweden and Finland to be able to lock his free hand on the breast of Finland's tunic.

"Let go of him!" Sweden's voice darkly rumbles, emanating from his chest and mouth, all the way through Finland's bones, and Finland feels a cold chill run from the balls of his feet to the crown of his head. Sweden could truly be terrifying, something he thinks Denmark forgets.

"Ah, wakey-wakey~" Denmark begins, but in less than a second Sweden's arms are off of Finland's torso and Denmark is no longer grinning, but removing his grip from Finland's body, using his newly freed hands to cover his nose, and before Finland can even blink, he sees blood dripping from Denmark's chin, slithering along the curve of his wrist and catching in the hair of his forearm.

Looking at Sweden, Finland sees his right hand clenched in a loose fist, his left hand covering it, as if he were cracking his knuckles. Finland realized that Sweden had just punched Denmark in the face, and he had no idea where this would now be headed.

Sweden took a step toward the retreating Dane, when Denmark simply turned and walked away, hands still covering his face – droplets of blood trailing his retreat.

"Sve!" Finland rushed to Sweden, and as soon as Finland had an arm to Sweden, Sweden fell to the help of Finland, his head hanging down and his eyes all but closed. "Let's get in your room."

Finland and Sweden slowly drawled into Sweden's bedroom, where Finland cautiously placed Sweden on his bed, helping him lay back so he could scurry back into the hall to retrieve his bow and other belongings. Before leaving, however, Finland gently placed a hand on either side of Sweden's jaw and looked upon him. His bags were still terribly present, and he looked as if he were about to pass out at any moment, but soon their eyes locked, and Finland saw something he had never seen in Sweden's eyes before – something warm and loving. The look made Finland's heart beat twice as hard, it made his cheeks flush, and he hadn't the faintest idea why.

"I'll be right back." Finland whispered, and hoping to help the pain, as he had in the past, kissed Sweden sweetly on the cheek before turning and quietly exiting the dark room.

Sweden only had time to sigh, heaving the inside of his elbow to cover his eyes and cheeks, and hiding a blush he hadn't realized was even there. He wished the kiss were on his lips, still imagining Finland's to be soft and pleasant, a feeling he wished to know with certainty. Quietly, and only to himself, Sweden boldly whispered, "I love you," to a Finland he knew was no longer in the room.

"Sve, it's me." Finland spoke softly, wanting to reassure Sweden that it was not Denmark entering. Finland closed and latched the lock on his door as quietly as possible; further preventing Denmark's entry. Having memorized Sweden's large room since childhood, he walked confidently in the darkness to where the man kept his candles and flint, gently placed his belongings down, and prepared to light one.

While he, with shaky hands as his adrenaline rush from earlier was now receding, fumbled with striking the flint and aiming the spark on the wick of the candle, Finland thought of how desperately he did not want to sleep alone in his room tonight. After what he just did, _spitting on Denmark's face_, Finland thought that certainly there was no way Denmark wasn't going to make his life a living hell until he got bored with him. He pondered asking Sweden if he could stay the night, and something told him that Sweden would never deny Finland of any request, no matter how difficult.

Thinking of Sweden, Finland recently discovered, always left him smiling. Finland enjoyed the others quiet, peaceful company. Much unlike Denmark's loud ways, and completely different from Norway's mysterious-quiet, Sweden offered a comfortable silence.

Being around Sweden was like relaxing into the comfort and warmth a fire emanated on a harsh winter's day. It was genuine and pure, like the relief of dipping your feet in the cool creek, without underlying intentions like he felt Norway sometimes had. Though, Finland would be lying if he said he was completely comfortable around the man. Sometimes, Finland mused, Sweden's demeanour and lack of voicing his intentions could come off as a bit nerve-wracking too.

Finally able to light the candle, Finland walked to Sweden's bedside and placed it's dim light on the nightstand. He walked to Sweden's side and leaned over the man, placing a light hand over Sweden's heart and just feeling thankful, again, that their meeting with Denmark hadn't escalated. He closed his eyes and sighed, relief washing over him.

"Thank ya, Fin." Sweden whispered, moving his hand to lightly rest atop of Finland's, weakly slipping the tips of his fingers under it and squeezing with what felt like the strength of a new-born child. Finland sighed.

"Sleep, Sve." He gently commanded, slipping his hand out from under Sweden's. Seeing as Sweden only managed to get the upper half of his body on the bed, his feet still on the ground, Finland decided to remove Sweden's boots. Once done, he placed them neatly, side-by-side at the foot of Sweden's bed. Tenderly, as a mother would tend to her daughter, he untied the neck of the man's tunic and tried to reposition Sweden's body on the bed.

"Hey," Finland whispered, the dull light reflecting warmly off of Sweden's features, "are you still up?"

"Ja." Sweden whispered, his eyes lightly fluttering open.

"Do you really plan on sleeping like this?" Finland chided, peering amusedly over Sweden, smiling.

Sweden groaned lightly, and Finland grabbed his hand, pulling the man to a seated position. Once seated, he shed his thick training uniform, leaving him in nothing but his tunic and undergarments. He repositioned himself on his bed, moving his legs under the covers yet still remained sitting. Lazily, he looked to Finland, and Finland couldn't help but think that Sweden looked so helpless and cute, as if a bit of his younger insecurities were still within him.

"Mind if I stay?" Finland questioned, the softness in his voice nearly lulling Sweden back to sleep.

Nodding, Sweden lay down, rolling to his side and watching as Finland pulled off his boots, and loosened the twine from his tunic, pulling it over and off of his torso. Finland walked to the other side of the bed, and Sweden again turned his body to follow the man's actions.

Smiling, Finland crawled in the large bed beside Sweden.

"Did I get 'em?" Sweden asked as Finland shimmied under the covers, snuggling close to Sweden, "couldn't see much withou' m'glasses." Sweden yawned, and Finland let his head fall to the pillow, his face romantically illuminated by their single candle. Sweden quietly admired the man Finland had become, and for some reason, probably out of a tired delirium, Sweden reached his hand out to brush the few strands of hair that had landed in Finland's eyes out of the way. It felt almost natural that Sweden would next kiss Finlands lips – but he didn't, he knew that would be too much.

"Looked like you broke his nose." Finland whispered, coaxing Sweden to sleep. Finland's body was so close to his own, he was sure Finland felt some need or worry about Denmark coming for him, so he tiredly wrapped his arms around Finland, and pulled, bringing Finland's nose to his chest.

"Sorry I didn' do it sooner." Sweden whispered, his lips grazing the crown of Finland's head with each word. Sweden had to admit, despite feeling beaten and bruised, tired, and fed up with their living arrangements, he couldn't imagine being any happier than he was right now, with Finland lying in his arms.

"Don't apologize," Finland placed a hand over Sweden's heart, feeling the muscle beat slowly, feeling the warmth of Sweden's chest radiate through his fingers and palm. "I think we both got off the hook tonight. Let's sleep, Sve."

"Ja, good night."

"Night." Finland closed his eyes, but he could not sleep. He waited for Sweden's breathing to calm and pattern (which truly did not take long); he waited for their lone candle to burn itself out. Finland waited for the dull light flickering through the crack under the door to dissipate, he waited for the house to stop it's creaking, and even until the birds and crickets had ceased their chirping.

Because even though he knew that the world was asleep, he still could not face what had happened earlier that night.

The images flashed back to him in violent gradients of greys, blacks and reds. Finland knew the phrase well – don't bite the hand that feeds – but it seemed tonight he landed himself back on Denmark's radar, and he knew things would not be so easy as they had been before. Denmark was his leader, as much as he despised it.

At some point, his eyes lulled to a close, but his dreams were nearly lucid, so real and completely possible that Finland thought he was not dreaming.

He dreamt that Denmark had come for him; that Sweden did not even wake at the sound of his cries and limply let him be pulled from his arms, that Norway simply observed from the hall as Finland was forced into Denmark's chambers.

He dreamt that Denmark had overtaken him, and each fit and struggle to get away only made the Dane stronger, like he was feeding off Finland's cries for help. Soon, Denmark was commanding him, and threatening him. Finland struggled, punching and biting and kicking to get away from Denmark, but he simply could not flee. Denmark's grip around him tightened until he was left completely emasculated, and soon all Finland could do was weep and call for help.

"Finland!" Hot tears ran down his face as a familiar voice called him from his nightmarish picture of reality – something so real for Finland, that he actually believed he was trapped in Denmarks arms as struggled to open his eyes.

"No! I won't let you-" Finland cut himself off, putting all his strength into his freedom. Fighting and struggling, Finland tried to make his way out of his captors arms, pushing off of the man's chest as forcefully as he could, but he was not budging.

"Finland, wake up!" The voice called again, but this voice was not Denmarks. This voice was not threatening.

"NO!" Finland finally manages to open his eyes, finding himself in Swedens arms. Upon realizing this, he instantly wraps his own arms, tightly, around Sweden's body. "Oh, Sweden!" He buried his face in Sweden's chest and wanted to cry and scream in terror and rage, his dream shook him to his core, and what's worse, he knew it was a likely scenario.

"Fin, shhh..." Sweden kissed the top of his head, letting his lips linger for a little while and began rubbing his back, "...shh, I'll protec' ya." Sweden sighed, "I'll keep ya safe."

Finland looked up to Sweden, and Sweden brought a hand to Finland's forehead, brushing and holding his hair back from his face, looking into each others eyes briefly, before Finland sighed and broke the tender moment.

"Sve, I don't want to live here any more." Finland whispered quikly, as these words were more lethal than spitting in the Dane's face, if he were to have heard them.

Sweden chuckled, whispering back, "Jus' say when."

"Soon..." Finland sighed feeling the warmth of a pleasant sleep over take him, knowing that Sweden was there, and that he truly would protect him, "thank you..."

Together they slept, the whole night through, without any bother from the great Dane.

* * *

Now, now, now, I really do love Denmark (guilty pleasure..definitely DenSu ;)) but for story purposes he's kinda gone mad with power at this point in time. But yeeeees these are my headcanons... and I bet you can guess what _Leaving _(the third in this trilogy about the Kalmar Union) will be about.. Welp, until next time~

_reviewwwwww good or not so good or i might just cry into swedens arms some more :o_

**Xoxo, OurGloryDays**


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